


Too Far

by MrsJohnSmith



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, BDSM, Breathplay, Choking, F/M, Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 02:26:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5988955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsJohnSmith/pseuds/MrsJohnSmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You and Dean have been together for awhile, but what happens after he gets the mark?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“But we _survived_. That’s what matters.” Brimming with fire and indignation, you threw your duffle on the motel room’s table with more muscle than intended. You watched it slide off the edge and thunk on the ground, ignoring Dean slamming the door after following you in.

“You can’t take those kinds of chances!” He growled.

This need to protect is what you loved and hated the most about your… well you’d never put a name to it. Boyfriend sounded high school. Lover made you cringe. Significant Other seemed like something you’d check mark on paperwork. There were countless other words that were potential labels, but nothing seemed to come close to Mine, Yours.

You kept your back to him, knowing that seeing those emerald eyes alight with fury, so similar to when they were blazing with desire, would have your resolve crumbling sooner than you hoped. You grabbed a beer from the mini fridge, just one for yourself, your anger enabling your selfish side. “It was a calculated risk and you know it. If you’d taken the side door instead of me -”

“Calculated?” He stepped in front of you forcing you to look at him, his jaw clenched. He lowered his voice, but it was still just as gruff. “What kinda math makes you think three on one’s a good idea?”

You popped the bottle cap and took a long drink instead of answering, not wanting to say all the words on the tip of your tongue that would just keep this fight going. How you were strong, capable, hunting almost as long as Dean. How it made you see red to be treated like a porcelain doll.

He ripped the bottle from your lips, “Answer me.”

You weren’t prepared for that. Beer escaped your lips and made splotches on your already filthy shirt. “Thought that was a rhetorical question.” You looked down at yourself in disgust, quickly pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it in the direction of your duffle.

You watched as Dean’s eyes flicked down to your chest, then back up to gaze at you, a dangerous mix of anger and desire painted his face. “You can’t do that. Never again, do you understand me?”

Your breath quickened. It was that voice. That voice that belonged _only_ in the bedroom (and, OK, once in the shower) and _only_ when you’d given him permission for full control. How did he not realize the boundary between sex and reality? That he was close to crossing a line?

“Dean.” It was a warning.

He moved towards you, giving his forearm a lazy scratch before wrapping his arms around you, one at the waist and one snaking up to grab the hair at the back of your head to pull. He tipped your head back and you gasped, arms instinctively wrapping around him. He wasn’t playing fair; he knew this shortcut, this way to hot wire you. His lips were at your ear to whisper, “Understand?”

You felt the pull, the urge to submit, your body reacting to him and shutting down your mind. “Yes.”

He pulled harder on your hair. “Yes, _what_?”

A whine escaped you, “Yes, _Sir_.”

“Good girl.” He rewarded you by bringing you closer, nibbling and licking down your neck and shoulder, sucking a mark where the two met, igniting your core. He definitely was taking advantage of knowing you so well, using everything he’d learned about you.

Manipulative.

It was like a rubber band snapped inside you, flinging you back to reality. You pushed firmly out of his grip. He wasn’t prepared for that, his arms hanging in the air a moment before dropping to his sides while you took two steps back trying to control your breathing.

“That’s not - Dean, you can’t just win the fight this way.”

Disappointment momentarily eclipsed his desire. “I’m trying to get you to see reason.” His eyes cast around the room and he let out a sharp sigh. Slowly he shrugged off his jacket and plaid, letting them drop to the floor. Your eyes widened slightly. You knew what he was doing. His fingers found the bottom hem of his t-shirt and at the same glacial pace he lifted it up, your eyes taking in every inch of flesh he was putting on display for you.

“Dean” you meant it as another warning, but it fell from your lips as a whisper.

He smirked in response and all at once he was on you, calloused hands circling your torso, up your back, his lips a hair’s breadth from yours. Part of you wanted him to stop, to resolve this properly. Your hands hooked into the loops on his jeans, unsure if you wanted to push or pull. His hands dug into your ass and he ground into you. You could feel his desire, how much he wanted you.

You gave in.

You pressed your lips to his, their softness yielding and molding to yours. He deepened the kiss, invading your mouth, willing you to submit. Both of you pulled back, gasping. “Sir?” You whispered.

“Undress.” He moved back enough to watch with hooded eyes as you unclasped your bra, sliding it down your arms. You toed off your boots, popping the button and dragging down the zipper on your jeans. You waited a moment while he took you in, then you turned your back to him. This is how he almost always wanted it so you didn’t need an order to comply. Slowly you brought your jeans and panties down, bending at the waist, knowing exactly the effect you had on him when you heard the sharp intake of breath behind you. Reaching your ankles, you stepped out of your clothes, your hands sliding and stroking back up your legs as you raised yourself to full height.

His hands caught you, one wrapping around your throat with slight pressure and one cupping an ass cheek. His hot breath was at your ear. “Green?”

You took a deep breath, closed your eyes, exhaled. “Green.”

His body pressed against yours, pushing until you were bent over the kitchenette counter, the edge cutting just enough into your flesh. You braced yourself against the counter and wall as he ground his erection into you. “Naughty girl, see what you’ve done to me?”

You fought the desire to push back into him knowing that would displease him. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

The hand around your throat tightened, too soon for him to be restricting your blood supply, but you ignored it when he growled into your ear. “Have to punish you, don’t I? Make you beg for this.” He rolled his hips and you cursed the denim keeping him from you.

“Please.” A whisper was all you could manage, but you knew it was enough when you felt him pull back to deliver a swat to your ass, a delicious tingle spreading out from where he made contact. A small part of your brain registered the fact that he’d started harder than usual.

“More where that came from, filthy girl, and you’re gonna take them all.” Jesus. His voice had never been so full of fire and gravel.

Dean kept his tight grip on your throat as he delivered one brutal spank after another, your whole upper body tilting back as the blows on your ass pushed you forward into the counter’s edge. Your moans fell from you broken and you struggled to pull enough air in. That wasn’t supposed to - why was he restricting your air?

“Naughty girl, I’m gonna turn you so _fuckin red_.”

His loud growl became the tipping point, too much, too much of everything. “Yel- Yel-” There wasn’t enough air for the full word and panic flared within you, driving you to push, pull and claw your way out, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t.

The sound of his hand striking your ass drowned out the whisper of _red_  from your lips and you felt yourself sinking.

* * *

“Sweetheart? Please. Come on, please?” Dean’s panicked voice came from above you and you tried to get your bearings as you opened your eyes.

“Dean?” You were on the floor, half in his lap as he held you, still trying to make sense of what happened.

He crushed you to him, murmuring broken apologies one after the other, his hands squeezing and stroking you in relief.

“Stop. Stop!” You fought your way out of his arms and your weak legs backed you as far across the tiny motel room as possible, your wide eyes never leaving him once. Not even when you smacked into the wall preventing you from getting the distance you so badly needed. It struck you that you’d never felt like this before, this fear, not even with all the creatures and monsters and you crumpled down the wall, hugging yourself.

“Babe…I-” The devastation, the guilt was clear on his face. How many times had you seen it? How many times had you done everything you could to soothe him? To fix him?

How many times had he done the same for you? “It’s not you.” Your whisper was just above the loud thumping of your heart. And you believed it wasn’t him, needed to believe it. Had to believe it. He’d never been anything like this before the mark.

He remained quiet and still for awhile, his face making it clear that he disagreed. All the words storming through his brain, everything unsaid, but it showed as waves of emotion on his face. Disappointment, sadness, guilt, embarrassment, anger.

“Let’s just go to bed.” He nodded and followed you under the covers, climbing to the wrong side as he’d taken to doing ever since obtaining the mark, the side that would allow his unblemished arm to drape over you.

It took awhile for sleep to come, the stress of what happened, what had been happening to Dean, all weighing heavy on you. You could tell Dean was still awake, too, but it was too much to talk about just yet. He needed time and so did you.

When you awoke the next morning feeling cold and anxious, you stretched out searching for Dean. Where he should have been was far too cold to the touch. Your hand brushed something that your groggy brain recognized as paper a few seconds later.

_I’ve always told you I’d keep you safe. I know you can take care of yourself, you’re the strongest, smartest and bravest woman I’ve ever met. But this thing - I can’t protect you from that. Not when you’re with me. This is the only way. I’m sorry._

You didn’t realize the word no was falling from your lips over and over as your eyes scanned the room. His bags were gone. You shot to the window, yanking back the flimsy curtain to see just an old truck and a beat up Honda in the parking lot. Sinking down to the floor, you tore at the note. Tore and tore and tore until it was in as many pieces as your heart.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Dean goes too far, he leaves you in order to protect you, but you’re not willing to let him go so easy.

The sun shone down brightly. It was finally warm enough again for you to be in a single layer. The gentle breeze slipped over your skin, strong enough to ripple through the trees and make the leaves whisper. Not too long ago, you’d have stretched out on the hood of the car, soaking in all that vitamin D. Instead, you remained slouched in the driver’s seat of the crappy sedan you’d stolen to get here.

When you’d finally sobered up enough from your almost week long bender, you answered Sam’s texts to come get your stuff from the bunker. It wasn’t much, but you hadn’t packed more than a change of clothes when you’d headed out with Dean for what was supposed to be an easy hunt. Obviously any hope of a quick reconciliation evaporated once these plans were made. And sending that text to Sam to let him know you had arrived, well that would really seal the deal. Packing up your stuff, putting it in the car and driving off to…where?

You pressed Send.

It was just about a minute and the door to the bunker opened, Sam’s strides slower than usual as he met you halfway, an apologetic smile on his face. He pulled you into his arms, trying to be of comfort. Maybe it was the physical contact with a friend or the way he smelled of the bunker and how it raised too many memories, but you were suddenly sobbing into his chest. With an arm wrapped around you and a large hand smoothing over your hair he let you cry.

When you’d managed to pull yourself together, you leaned away from him, sniffling. “How is he?”

“He’s…dealing with it.” His lips pressed together, sealing in his loyalty to his brother.

You ducked your head, nodding your understanding as you shuffled towards the bunker door, boots scraping noisily in the dirt. “I’ll just go pack up my st-”

“It’s already done.” Sam’s large hand caught your shoulder.

Another wave of sadness claimed you, a new heaviness weighing on each cell of your body. Finding solace in a list of the smallest tasks was all you had left to keep you moving and that was just taken from you too.

“I’ll get your boxes, just open up the car.” You nodded again and watched him walk back towards the bunker, shoulders rounded and head down.

“Is he inside?” You called out to him without thinking.

He turned just before opening the door, the sadness clear in his eyes. “No, he’s …” Sam drifted off awkwardly.

You waved him off as you turned back to the car, trying not to feel guilty for having him in the middle of all this. By the time you popped the trunk and shoved yours and the owner’s random items to the back, Sam was at your side with three boxes easily contained by his large arms. He helped you settle them in the trunk and as you adjusted the last box you realized there was nothing left to do. “How am I supposed to do this, Sam?”

“We’ll fix it. Fix him.” He wrapped you in his arms one final time, your hands slowly moving to circle him, trying not to break down again. You could help. Why couldn’t you stay and help? See him, them, through this?

He planted a kiss to the top of your head before releasing you. Your only spoken goodbye was him telling you to call if you needed anything. As you watched him disappear into the bunker you barked out a humorless laugh. If you needed anything. You’d never needed anything more in your life and a call to Sam would get you nowhere.

Driving away you realized you had nowhere to go, no one who needed you, no case to distract you. You pulled off on another side road and circled back. Once parked, you rifled through the trunk grabbing a bottle of Jack, the motion popping the top off a box. Photos were placed carefully over your folded clothes. Your fingers slid over them, spreading them out. Pain sliced through you as you realized it was all of them. No trace of you had been left in the bunker. That should’ve stopped you, but it didn’t. You grabbed one in particular, slammed the trunk and stalked off through the forest.

Hours later, drunk and out of tears, you were sitting on the forest floor, eyes still trained on the bunker and waiting for any sign of Dean. The door opened and Sam stepped out, fully outfitted in his running gear. Unusual that he’d go for an afternoon run, but maybe the quiet of the bunker had gotten to him. You watched as he set up his tunes and did his stretches, hoisting the bottle in his direction as het set off on his run, oblivious to the wreck of pain and misery just up the hill.

It had been good. Better than good. Amazing. What you and Dean shared? It was special. Neither of you had said it, but you know you felt it. You took another swig from the bottle trying to drown the memories.

_“Um, clear.” You shoved the drawers shut, blushing at their contents._

_“Yeah, no, we’re, uh, good. Good here.” Dean coughed, turning awkwardly to you._

_“There’s, um…”_

_“Yeah, same in there I think.” His head twitched towards the closet._

_The two of you stared at each other, momentarily forgetting the cursed object you were after. Embarrassment shifted to arousal as you realized you’d each seen the outfits, the props, the toys and weren’t unsettled by their presence, just reminded of the secret desires each of you kept._

_“You…?” He shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to hide his growing erection that was clear as day in the pants of his fed suit._

_You closed your eyes, took a deep breath and whispered, “Yes, Sir?”_

_The rest of the house was searched in record time. Nothing was found so thankfully you could task Sam with more research as Dean burned rubber to get you back to the motel._

_“Why didn’t you…” That damn smirk of his._

_“Say something sooner?” You grasped his thigh firmly, stroking your way up to his bulge. “Why didn’t you?”_

_He adjusted his position, sliding down into the seat, allowing more room for your hand to work. “True.” He groaned as you cupped him, his head tilting back as he fought to keep his eyes on the road. “So, uh, what are we talkin about here, exactly?”_

_You moved closer, feeling yourself already aching and wet for him. You whispered in his ear. “Light bondage…” His hand came off the wheel to rest on your thigh. “…sometimes I need a very firm hand to behave properly.” His fingers dug into your thigh. “Yeah, baby, like that.”_

_“S-safe word? Or red/yellow/green?”_

_Your hand drifted up to his chest, giving him a little more focus, before teasing it away again by licking at his ear. “Red/yellow/green, please, Sir.” He twitched. “You like when I call you Sir?”_

_“Fuck, yeah.” He breathed._

_“What else do you like?” Easing back, you gazed at his plush lips attempting to form his response._

_“Wanna spank, you, hard.” His hand on your thigh dug in again, your breathing slipping out of your control. “And the things I wanna say to you…”_

_“Baby, you can say anything you’d like to me, use me, shame me, all I ask is when we’re done…” Your lips pressed softly to his cheek, your hand sliding carefully down his arm, “…you bring me back with care and sweet praise.”_

_He took the opportunity the red light offered and turned to you, his eyes filled with tenderness, and with both hands cupping your cheeks his lips met yours in a gentle promise. “Whatever you need.”_

_The last few minutes to the motel seemed to stretch on forever and you wanted to run from the car to the door, but it was all hands, halted steps, fumbling with keys until finally, finally, you were both inside. He had you trapped against the door at lightning speed with his palms flat against the door, his strong arms caging you in, all of him against you, his lips capturing yours in a powerful but languid kiss. Your hands slid over the smooth material of his shirt at his waist, you fingers clawing into the fabric, trying to steady yourself. His kisses always drove you wild, those full lips, eager tongue, but this kiss, this was laced with something else entirely. Power. Control._

_He pulled from you, eyes remaining closed, and as you tried to reign in your breathing he whispered. “Green?”_

_“Green.”_

_He stepped back, his body, no, his whole entire being hardening, his stance widened and his back straightened, and still his eyes remained closed, his head dipped down slightly. You allowed your eyes to roam. You always loved him in a suit, but this, this was pure porn. His lips curled into a half smile and his eyes shot open, finding yours immediately. Your breath caught in your throat. His eyes were darker than you’d ever seen, filled with lust. “You’ve been a very naughty little girl, haven’t you?”_

_“Fuckin…Christ” If you thought you were aching before, you were dead wrong._

_His head tilted, amusement dancing across his eyes for just a second. “What was that?”_

_“I…yes, I have. Sir.”_

_He nodded once and then he was back on you, rough hands digging into your hip and clawing into your hair. His face was even with yours for a moment before he began to move, his lips near enough to your skin that you could feel the heat of them, his breath, but never touching. You wanted to move forward into them, but his strong grip and need to submit kept you in place. “See, now I’ve got a big problem.” He kept right on teasing you, tugging back on your hair, a low moan sounding from deep within you. “What a filthy sound. Good girls don’t make sounds like that do they?”_

_“No, Sir.” You whined. Your hands clawed into the door behind you feeling as if you were really being dragged down; your control was melting away, sliding over to him._

_“Would you like to see what you’ve done?” His tongue flicked over your neck, the unexpected contact making you push forward to chase after more._

_“Please?” You begged._

_He released you and stepped back, his hands quickly pulling down his zipper and freeing his erection. “On your knees.”_

_On shaky legs you complied, sinking down directly in front of his hard cock, watching as he lazily stroked himself. You flicked your eyes up to him, awaiting his next command._

_“I’m gonna fuck that pretty little mouth of yours.” His other hand came up to cup your chin firmly, his thumb rubbing back and forth over your bottom lip a few times before he pushed it into your mouth. You sucked at it greedily, his eyes closing for a moment before he brought himself back. He pulled his thumb from your mouth, rubbing the wetness all around your lips. “Open. Show me how good you can be.”_

_You did exactly as directed, no more, no less. With a firm hand on his cock, he pushed into your waiting mouth, your lips sealing over him. He rocked back and forth, your lips sliding over just the head. He pulled out, rubbing himself around your lips before pushing back in again. It was deeper this time, his hands moving to either side of your head, locking you in place. “Grab my ass.” He commanded._

_As soon as your hands were in place, his pace increased, thrusting into your mouth harder than he’d ever let himself before, groaning deeply. There was a fire in his eyes you’d never seen before and you fought to maintain eye contact with him as he fucked your mouth._

_He pulled back suddenly, panting. “Enough.” He tucked himself back inside his pants with some difficulty. “You did good little girl.” Moving towards the bed he slowly removed his suit jacket, tossing it onto a chair. He sighed as he sat down on the edge of the bed. “But you still have to take your punishment don’t you?”_

_“Yes, I do, Sir.” You fought to keep the smile off your face._

_“Get over here.” He pointed directly in front of him and you rushed to comply. Handling you roughly, he bent you over his knees, ass up just where he wanted it. “Now, if you take your punishment like a good girl…” Your skirt was lifted, his rough hand circling before pulling off your panties. “…then I’ll give you a reward. Would you like that?”_

_“Please, yes.” You shut your eyes, his hand was still skimming over your flesh and the waiting was driving you mad._

_He yanked back sharply on your hair, your moan almost drowning out his words. “Yes, what?”_

_“Sir!” You cried. “Please, yes, I’ll be good Sir.”_

_There was a rush of air as he lifted his hand from your ass, you clenched in anticipation, but no blow came. His hand came back down, rubbing circles again. “Only good girls get to come.”_

_“I’ll be good, I’ll be so good, Sir, please.” You pushed your legs together, hips tilting, seeking anything, something._

_Two quick smacks, one on each cheek, the sharpness quickly becoming a tingling warmth and you needed more. His hand circled again, fingers briefly stopping to dig into your cheeks, before moving on. Two more, harder this time and you cried out. “Green?” He checked in with you._

_“Green as fuck, Sir.”_

_He chuckled before starting up again, quick spanks of increasing intensity mixed with caresses that were sometimes gentle, sometimes rough, and you were a clenching writhing mess on his lap. Everything was his hand. Everything. He’d tease you, leaving his hand in the air just a bit too long before striking again._

_“God, I wish you could see how red you are, taking your punishment so well.” He sounded as wrecked as you felt, his hand rubbing ever lower, until it slipped into your slit. “Fuck, you’re so wet.” He plunged a finger inside you as his other hand yanked your hair back, your moan utterly filthy. Adding a second finger, he pushed deeper, faster and you couldn’t help but rock back into him, already so close._

_Suddenly he flipped you up, throwing you onto your back on the bed, his look absolutely predatory as his harsh hands pushed your skirt higher and spread your legs. His tongue dove into you, licking at your hole. You gripped the sheets, desperately trying to keep from grinding down on him. His mouth traveled up, sucking, nibbling. “Come for me, filthy girl.” His mouth closed around your clit, his fingers pushed into you again, the sucking, stroking, flicking, thrusting suddenly sending you over the edge, your orgasm hitting you sharp and quick, the sensitivity coming far too soon._

_His large hands made quick work of your remaining clothes, laying you bare before him. “You’ve been so good, baby.” Sliding back to stand, he gave you a dark look as he tugged at his tie, yanking it from his neck and dropping it beside you. “On your stomach, hands behind your back.”_

_Rolling as instructed, you clasped your hands behind your back, shutting your eyes and listening to the rustle of his clothes. Wondering what was coming next, the possibilities, only made the ache in your center worse. What seemed like ages later, the bed dipped with his weight and you remained still, waiting for him. He roughly pushed your legs apart, the bed moving down enough that he must have been kneeling. Smooth fabric was wound around your arms, just above the elbows._

_He bent forward, a hand trailing up to your neck taking some of his weight and pushing you further into the mattress, his lips at your ear. “You’ve been so good, sweet girl, but I just need to make sure you stay that way.”_

_“Good idea, Sir.” It was a little cheeky, but you couldn’t help yourself._

_Releasing you, he slid his hands down your back and to your hips. “Do I need to gag that little mouth of yours?”_

_Two sharp smacks to your ass and you were moaning your no, the tingles, the ache, the throbbing getting almost too much to bear. You needed him so bad._

_Almost as if he sensed it, he quickly pulled your ass up, and slammed into you with a low fuuuuck. His fingers dug sharply into your hips, his thumbs pushing into the sensitive flesh of your cheeks, all of it an overwhelming mix of pleasure and pain, your mouth forming a soundless O. He slid slowly out and slammed into you again. Slow slide out, sharp thrust in. And again._

_“Fuck, Dean, you feel so good.” Your hands clawed at empty air, desperate for him._

_His hand wound into the fabric that held you back, raising you from the bed like you were on all fours, each word punctuated by a thrust. “What. Did. You. Call. Me?”_

_“Fuck, Sir. Sir, you feel so good. Please.”  His hand left your hip and delivered another smack to your ass. It was so much, everything, his cock, his voice. With everything you had you tried to rock back into his thrusts._

_He pumped into you, harder and faster, his arm wrapped around your chest, bringing you flush with him as he kept pounding into you, as his other hand released the restraint on your arms, your hands searching out his sweat slick skin and you anchored yourself to his thighs. The moans and grunts mixed between you as you both worked towards your release._

_His hands moved again, sliding over your hot skin, as he continued his brutal pace, one wrapping around your neck carefully, the other finding its way between your folds to rub at your clit._

_“Come for me, little girl.” He rubbed harder, thrusted impossibly faster, and you were screaming, shaking, clenching, the fire spreading through every part of your body. He kept slamming into you, drawing every bit of pleasure from you, until you started to come down, melting into a boneless mess. Only then did he allow his own release, biting down on your shoulder, groaning into you as he came harder than he’d ever before._

He had taken such good care of you after, thanking you, praising you, nothing but soft and gentle touches for as long as you both needed, and he was like that every time. Hell, he took care of you out of the bedroom, too. A twig snapped somewhere behind you and to the left, sobering you up a little. You reached for your knife, about to draw it when Sam stepped out from behind a tree, hands up in a calming gesture. “Fuck, Sam.” You turned back towards the bunker, taking a defiant swig from the bottle.

He folded himself next to you and you could feel his eyes on you.

“What?” You’d meant for it to be sharp, to drive him away, but more than anything, it was defeated.

“What are you doing?” He was using that gentle voice of his and all it made you want to do right now was scream.

“I’m not gonna let him push me away. I may not seem it now, working my way through this bottle, but I’m strong, Sam. I can be there for him like he’s done for me.” You sighed. “For both of you. I can help. If only he’d let me.” You turned to him and he was staring out beyond the bunker, lost in thought.

It was a couple of minutes before he spoke. “I told him almost the same. He’s a wreck and it’s not just the mark.”

“I’m gonna wait for him, Sam. Whenever he gets back, we’re gonna have words. At the very least I deserve actual words and not some shitty note.”

“And nothing I can say is gonna change your mind, right?”

“Sam.” It was a warning and he knew it.

He got up, dusting himself off, and threw one last puppy dog look in your direction before heading down the hill and back into the bunker.

* * *

Sam stormed through the bunker, finally finding what he was looking for, near passed out in the kitchen.

“Dean, she’s out there and she’s not leaving.”

Dean raised his head, his eyes growing clearer, but he just picked up his tumbler for another gulp.


	3. Chapter 3

Every leaf, twig, or rock within a leaning radius of you had been chucked down the hill. You wanted to pitch the bottle as well, wanting to hear the sound of breaking glass. Still enough Jack left in it to keep it around though. Morning had come, but it didn’t much matter since Dean hadn’t.

The bunker door opened, incredibly noisy after a quiet night in the forest, and Sam stepped out stiffly. He raised his head in your general direction, searching.

“Mornin’.” You called out to him flatly.

You watched as he picked his way around brush and trees, stopping a few feet outside your barren circle of earth. “Hey.” Sam’s brow was all hitched up with worry and he didn’t hide the fact that he was eyeing the bottle in your hand. “Got a pot of coffee brewin if you want a cup?”

“That an invite inside?” Your words were as sharp as your machete. “I’m covered in the beverage department, thanks.”

He huffed out a sigh and crossed his arms. “When’s the last time you ate anything?”

Honestly, at this point you weren’t quite sure and rather than do the math on it or talk about it or see Sam morph into even more of a puppy, you just looked away.

He muttered your name in that disapproving tone usually reserved for Dean. When you still had no response, he turned and walked away.

Like the claw of a monster, guilt sliced through your stomach. He was only trying to help. “Sorry, Sam.” You called out to his retreating form.

Pausing for a moment, he turned as if he wanted to say something more, but he changed his mind and headed back into the bunker.

All decisions up to this point had been made emotionally, based on instinct, your gut, and without any real thought beyond the immediate. You dropped your head into your hands, palms pressed to your eyes. What the hell would you even say if he did come back? Would he listen? More and more questions circled around your buzzed, sleep-deprived brain and the one, lonely answer in your head was _stay_. You wouldn’t move for anyone or anything except Dean.

* * *

The sun had risen considerably and was shining harshly down on you when you decided to attack this like a case. Work it out. You couldn’t be sure where Dean was or where to find him other than here. But Sam was sure to have ratted you out at some point, his loyalty obviously with his brother. You could pretend to leave, find another hiding spot. What if Dean showed up in the meantime? And Sam would probably find you again, no matter how well you tried to hide.

You screamed out your frustration to the forest, a long, howling, miserable sound. And for a few seconds you felt good, relieved. The crushing weight of your heartbreak was back sooner than you wanted and you eyed that bottle. Fuck it. Fuck it all. Fuck this mess. Fuck the mark. Fuck your heart.

One drink became another and another. God help you, and another. It was like the first night away from him all over again. Reckless, hurt, wounded to your very core. Another drink. Nothing mattered without him. Another drink. Fuck it, let’s finish this. Another drink. Why wouldn’t the pain go away? Another drink.

The last thing you remembered was one bittersweet moment, the bottle finally emptied and you got to hear that sound of breaking glass you’d craved. It was nothing compared to how your heart shattered that first morning.

* * *

“Baby, come on, please.” Dean’s voice. Arms holding you. You didn’t want to relive these memories again. Make it stop. “Sweetheart, please.”

Your arms tried to swat at the memories, so real. Too real. Your fists connected with flesh. Good.  Punch. Hurt. Why were you swaying? Why were the trees moving?

“I got her, Sammy. Back up.” The hell? That was different. Sam hadn’t been there. Why? “I got you, sweetheart. Come on, open your eyes again.”

The bunker stairs, the slightly stale air making your stomach turn. Dropping. No. Just descending. And spinning. Why couldn’t you just be still? Ah, there it was. Soft. Still. Shit, no, spinning again. Everything was wobbly and you groaned, trying to grab both your head and stomach at the same time.

“Sammy! Bucket!”

You were brought forward, something hard at your chest. Opening your eyes, you realized three things very quickly. It was the bucket. You were gonna be sick. Dean was really there.

* * *

When you came to again, your brain only offered you pieces. Dean soothing you as you were sick. Holding a bottle up to your lips as he tried to get you to sip water. Urging you to rest as the worst of it passed. You looked down from where you were propped against the armrest of the couch to find Dean sprawled on the ground below you, his head resting beside you on the cushion, a hand laced with yours. He always looked so peaceful when asleep.

You had tried to remain still, but his hunter instincts must have sensed something. He jerked awake, worry settling into his features almost immediately.  "Are you…“

"Yeah.” Better? Ok? The answer yes was the truth, but also an overwhelming lie. You just didn’t have it in you to say everything you’d wanted to just yet. Your head was pounding, your body was aching and worst of all was your heart. Seeing him again, you expected pain, but not this much, and you needed an out. Just for a moment. “Can I - would you mind if I showered?”  It was embarrassing having to ask that; this had been your home only days ago.

“N-no, of course.” He stammered, scooting away to allow you room to stand up.

When you pushed up from the couch, the world went wobbly again and his hands gripped around your waist to steady you, his touch lighting a fire within you. “I’m fine. Fine.” You pried his hands away from you, attempting to step away from him, but the couch was coming at you. Only when you’d made contact did your brain inform you that you’d been the one moving, falling.

He moved up beside you, a gentle hand on your arm. “Hey. You haven’t eaten, you’re dehydrated. Let me help you.”

You couldn’t meet his eyes, only nodded. He scooped you up into his arms and carried you to the bathroom. When he set you down, hands still around you to keep you steady, you realized all your stuff was in your trunk, your toothbrush, your soap, everything and even though you thought your body didn’t have anymore to give, tears began to fall. “This is ridiculous.” You ground out as you swiped the mouthwash bottle. The taste of the alcohol in it almost made you lose it, but you swished, spat, and slammed the bottle back down.

“You’ll be ok, I got you. Tell me what you need.” He met your eyes in the mirror and he looked so sincere, sounded so concerned.

How was this the same man who left you? Who kicked you out of the only home you’d known in years? The snap inside you was so brutal and abrupt you could have sworn you physically felt it. “I need my stuff, Dean. I need my home back. I need you!”

He leaned back at your words, but his hands gripped you tighter. “We’re doin’ this? Here?”

You shoved your way out of his grip, somehow able to get yourself over to the toilet to sit down. “Yes. Here. Now.”

His features were twisted in anger and you braced yourself. “I almost killed you.” He was surprisingly quiet, just above a whisper, though all his muscles were taut, his jaw clenching.

After the initial shock of what he did that night passed, your logic and love never even let you think of it this way. It was the mark. Not him. “It was an accident. Not your fault. I was fine.”

He scoffed harshly. “How can you care so little about your life?”

“How can you care so little about us?” You countered.

“Tell me.” He dropped to his knees in front of you. “How do I protect you from me?” His mossy green eyes shone with the beginnings of tears and he was doing everything to hold them back.

“Maybe you can’t.” You reached a hand out to cup his face and his eyes fluttered shut at your touch.

“What if I…” He couldn’t finish that thought, just shaking his head.

Your mind was filling in the blanks well enough, an icy chill shooting its way up your spine. With effort, you shoved back those thoughts. “I’m not giving up. I’m gonna help you, be there for you, no matter what.”

Dean’s head dipped down as his shoulders softened. His eyes opened, but stayed focused on the tile. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough and small. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not.” You smoothed your thumb over his cheek, trying to soothe him.

“Why would you wanna be stuck here with me?” Popping his head up, he fixed his gaze on you, all the hurt and self-loathing in his eyes crystal clear. Your answer didn’t come soon enough and he slumped back against the wall, drawing his legs up in front of him, his arms resting on his knees, a physical manifestation of the walls around his heart.

“Dean, this is where I belong. With you. And Sam.” He grimaced, probably not willing to let your words sink in, but you continued anyways. “It’s not being stuck, it’s a choice. A choice I want to make because…because I just do, all right?”

“You deserve better than me.”

“Tell me,” Your voice was soft now and you reached out to him, gently resting your hand on his forearm. “What do I deserve more…the man you think I should have or the ability to make my own choices?”

“You could go anywhere, do anything. Live any life you want.”

A gentle laugh sounded from you. “The fuck is the point of all that without love?”

His eyes widened, his plush lips dropping apart as if he was going to speak, but he froze. You’d never said that word and he sure hadn’t, but it never needed to be said before. It was there when he had your back in a vamp’s nest, when you fell asleep tangled with each other at night, in a million little touches and considerations and decisions. And it was there when he raised himself up to kiss you, his hand firm at the back of your neck while the other sought yours out to bring it to rest over his heart. He weaved his fingers with yours as the kiss deepened, the raw emotion lit your soul on fire and easily robbed your weakened body of its breath.

Panting, you pulled back, but he wasn’t finished with you just yet. His lips travelled across your cheek and jaw, delicate kisses letting you know how precious you were to him. “I’m sorry.” He breathed, just loud enough for you to hear. His strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you as close as possible as he buried his head in the crook your neck, his breath shuddering. You held him just as hard, stroking the back of his head and rocking the two of you gently until felt the tension ease from him, from both of you.

He lifted his head up to meet your eyes, his gaze filled with hope and apology. “Let’s get you cleaned up, huh?”

His eyes barely left yours as he brought you over to the shower, getting it running and then carefully removing your clothes before he took care of his. This week, you’d honestly believed you’d never be here with him again, not just naked, but bared to each other, nothing in between you.

He stepped into the shower first and eased you in after him, directing you under the spray. Your eyes slipped closed as you relaxed under the water. Almost too soon he brought you back towards him and out of the water, though you were quickly distracted by his fingers threading through your hair as he worked the shampoo in. You melted back into him as he massaged your scalp, a contented sigh escaping from your lips as you felt that all too familiar pull downwards, the calming desire to submit.

With gentle touches, he continued to care for you, cleanse you, each caress another apology. Your hands found his skin whenever possible, wanting to keep contact with him, anchor yourself to him. When you realized how hard he was, you tried to mold your hand around him, but with gentle firmness he removed your hand. You obeyed, even though you didn’t want to wait.

When he had finished his work, he kissed you all over as each part of you was rinsed clean, your skin feeling on fire even as the water started to run cold. Dean turned off the shower and grabbed a towel for you, patting you dry before wrapping you up in its fluffy softness. He quickly grabbed a towel for himself, hair still dripping down to his hard chest, and just as before he stepped first from the shower and guided you out of it, continuing out into the hallway.

“But my clothes?” You asked as you kept walking.

“Later. Let’s get you in bed.” He squeezed your hand reassuringly.

You stopped in your tracks just outside the bedroom you had shared, three boxes stacked neatly in front of your door. “Is that- I mean did-”

“I had Sammy get em. I’d hoped…” His gorgeous green eyes looked down to you, still filled with apology. “They never shoulda left the bunker.”

Your heart felt like it was going to explode from all the joy, the relief and you threw your arms around his neck to bring him down to you, your lips smashing into his. Your kisses were hungry, needy, and Dean was right there with you, his lips and tongue claiming you as you both stumbled into the room, pausing only long enough for him to shut the door and drop your towels before falling back onto the bed.

How you had missed the weight of him sinking you into the mattress, the feel of his muscles below your hands, the way his mouth moved over your skin. “Dean, I need you. Please.” You whimpered.

“I got you, sweetheart.” His fingers dipped between your folds and he dropped his head to your chest, his eyes screwing shut. “Shit, baby, so wet for me already.”

“Please, Dean. Need you inside me.” He growled as your fingers dug into him, urging him forward.

He raised his head to watch you as he sunk into you slowly, drawing a low moan from you as he filled you. When he was fully sheathed, he bent his head to claim your lips again, gentle this time and then he moved. Slow. Steady. Just feeling each other. Connected. Continuous, delicious friction and you could’ve stayed like that forever with him, but that coil tightening in your belly demanded more and you rose to meet him faster each time.

He broke away from you, angling himself just like he knew you needed. His eyes never left yours as his thrusts became faster, more powerful, grunts and groans rumbling out of him mixing with your own moans and heightening your pleasure. Your hands clawed at his back, holding tight and never wanting to let him go as you rocked harder into him, needing him, needing your release, needing him to let go.

He slid his hand between you, his fingers rubbing over your clit as he pounded into you even harder, giving you exactly what you needed. You came undone, shouting his name, shaking and clenching as he drove into you, not letting himself go until he had wrung every last bit of pleasure out of you.

Collapsing next to you, he snuggled you in close as you both struggled to recover your breath. His hands never stopped moving, sliding over your skin and soothing you, soothing him. As you began to regain your thoughts, you realized he wasn’t hiding his marked arm from you. You closed your fingers around his forearm, bringing it up to your lips to press a gentle kiss on the scar-like skin. “We’ll fix it. Fix us.”

You felt it when he stopped breathing, his body tensing ever so slightly. He stayed silent.

“We’ll find a way. I promise.” You laid his arm against your stomach, draping yours over it as he kissed your shoulder, squeezing you tighter as you both drifted off to sleep.


End file.
